Hey guys! Lots of Olympics craziness today, so if you missed the post before, I’m taking prompts for my celebratory drabble promptfest! (As you can see, they’re not always exactly drabbles.)
Prompt #2 (from anangrylittlehobbit):
oh, I would love to see (in honor of the new pics of Rupert) Greg fretting about “getting old and grey” and his partner assuring him that he is still very much desirable. I would love to see him with John, but the partner choice is in your amazing hands. Thank you for being an absolutely wonderful author, I read and re-read your stories constantly on AO3.
Silver
Greg tugs on his fringe, gaze grimly locked with his doppelganger’s in the mirror. “I’m getting old.”
Behind him, John scoffs.
“No, really. Look at this. Five years ago, all brown. Now I can’t go a day without shaving or I look like my own father.”
“Well, then your father must be a very handsome man.” John sneaks his head around into the crook between Greg’s neck and shoulder and starts kissing, his lips finding all the best spots. Greg shivers. Christ, John’s like some kind of savant. It’s what comes of all that following after Sherlock, maybe.
When John’s hand starts teasing at the hem of his pyjama bottoms, Greg grabs it and stops him. “I feel flabby.” That’s another thing. Used to be he didn’t need to exercise. Now, if he doesn’t get to the gym at least twice a week, he starts to develop the physique of a desk jockey.
John stops and pulls back, that unhappy little divot making an appearance between his eyebrows. Greg heaves a sigh. He’s not out to drive John off; he just…doesn’t feel very sexy just now.
Then he’s being grabbed and spun, and he’s got John, wet and all but naked in a towel, undulating against him, backing him up against the sink. Greg might not be feeling terribly desirable right now, but the man moulded against him is sex on the hoof. He’s got his arms around that naked waist before he even notices he’s moved.
John’s hands splay over his chest and stroke upwards to tangle in the grey hair Greg was just bemoaning, kneading with blatant greed into the strands. “Old, are you?” Murky blue eyes glint dangerously. Jesus, does John have any fucking idea how gorgeous he looks when he’s being evil? “Well, as it happens there’s a convenient medical test for that.”
John starts sliding downwards along Greg’s body, a velvet cascade of warm solid muscle, licking and nibbling as he goes. Greg melts backwards till his head hits the mirror, and parts his thighs obediently when John shoves them wide to kneel.
Greg swears he can feel John’s wide-eyed stare stroking over the quickly rising cock between Greg’s legs. The sensation makes him light-headed with arousal.
John smiles and leans in for a lick, grinning at the way Greg whimpers and thrusts his hips up.
“Well. Look at that. You have the erection of a much younger man.” John licks his cock again, long and leisurely, then takes the first several inches into his mouth for a good suck. Greg tries to fist his hands in John’s hair. It’s too short for a grip; his fingers slip and John sits back on his heels. “Yes, quite healthy.”
Greg whimpers again when John comes to his feet. John’s not a dick; he wouldn’t get Greg going like this and then leave without doing something about it, but Greg grabs at his arms and pulls him in anyway. Pressed together, he can feel John’s laugh through his own body.
John raises his head to nuzzle at Greg’s neck, and takes Greg’s hand to tuck his fingers invitingly under the edge of his towel. “Now, shall we test your stamina?”